She's warm, willing and thankfully nothing at all like Kate. Sinking into her embrace, falling to the bed with her... It all feels strangely right even if his body is thrumming with anticipation. Prison changes how you see sex; not being able to have something that was once so natural is punishment enough for the average man. Neal only got through because he had such vibrant memories of Kate's body to invigorate his after hours bodily maintenance.

Sara smells like expensive perfume, but the right kind: not the one that impresses because the name brand can be recognized, but because it smells amazing on her skin. Neal drinks it in with long breaths as if he must memorize this moment. Her lips soon look bee stung from just this side of brusque kisses. Her breath is near to panting as he leans down to capture her lips yet again.

Her skin is unbearably soft beneath his fingertips. It's perfect, pampered, likely by expensive spa treatments, but it's worth it. He buries his face in her neck and focuses on touch for a moment. She's so responsive it almost takes him aback. Every little hitch of her breath in his ear eggs him on to touch her more. When his explorations finally reach their destination she reacts from head to toe, almost arching off the bed at first contact.

After that he pulls back to better watch her as she quivers, lost to sensation. She writhes, wanton, her whole body shamelessly reveling in every pleasure he gives her. Her eyes meet his questioning ones and she nods her permission as he slips between her pale thighs. He keeps the eye contact as he slides inside, not wanting to lose himself and forget her in the process. She maintains his gaze, mouth open in a circle of awe, until he recovers enough for his first real thrust. Her head is thrown back, baring her graceful neck, and he can't help but ravish her. All the pent up energy between them must be exorcised lest it explode.

The wildness is intoxicating. Sara isn't some dainty naif. She not only asks for what she wants in bed, she all but demands it with grasping hands, teasing teeth and a dirty mouth that's both a surprise and unbearably hot. Neal feels enveloped by her, inspired by her drive, surrendering to a need just as great as his own. Different as they are they fit: two voracious lovers seeking the pinnacle of experience.

The spiral up to the apex makes him dizzy. Neal can barely hold back long enough to ensure she's taken care of first. As it is he follows right behind: nails deliciously dragging down his back, a gorgeous growl of completion – so feral in his ear and their bodies twitching and tensing almost as one. The rush of euphoria fills his body and mind, leaving him floating in a cloud of bliss that he's almost forgotten. Tumbling back down to reality isn't even bad. They're still entwined as he sinks into the lovely afterglow with a contented sigh.

She curls up against him with a sweet smile, making it clear she's spending the night, and he wouldn't have it any other way. The woman that rests in his arms has given him a precious gift: herself. This is the Sara underneath the professional exterior. This is the woman who honestly feels badly about the hurts he's experienced in life. She is unapologetic. This is not pity, this is mutual respect with a huge dose of real attraction. She doesn't want him because he's Neal Caffrey, thief and all around bad boy. She wants the real Neal inside, the man so capable of love that he went to prison for it.

Despite his wariness and the now unfamiliar feel of another person in his bed, Neal finds himself drifting towards slumber after a last languid kiss. The warm body beside him lulls him into dreamland. His own sated body pulls him to the mattress as sleep lowers his heavy eyelids. There will be time in the morning to ponder the difficulties of a relationship with a woman paid to track down thieves, but for now they are one man and one woman at peace.

A last deep breath precedes his slip into slumber. In his mind there is no anklet, no prison, no loss, no death. He's free to travel the world, explore new cities, revel in life's beauty. And for once, the woman at his side isn't hesitant, isn't a mystery, isn't a cause of heartache. Sara takes his hand, smiles at him, and tugs him forward into the glittering world that is the lifestyle of the rich, famous art lovers. They belong there now. He's not a thief. He's a collector, a painter and art is his life. In his mind he kisses her, slips his arm around her waist and follows her into the world of his dreams.

I confess I screwed up big time. Most people who know me well know I've been dealing with some serious health issues, but that doesn't excuse what I did. Even though I've spent most of my time in bed as of late and even though my vision has been majorly screwed up as a side effect of my illness (both eyes blurry and some double vision) I failed to publicly acknowledge the wonderful gift of ten (10! ZOMG) fic at wcpairings that the amazing rabidchild wrote for me. I knew I could post something quick about not being able to read them right away, but that felt wrong; I'm one of those people who tends to write huge thank you posts whenever I get a fic gift in an exchange. So I put it off, thinking I'd do it the next day. Then I got sicker. I also missed my own posting date and in doing so managed to disappoint winterstar95 who also happened to be the beta who helped out on all ten of my gift fic.

Wow, I suck.

All I can do now is apologize and write RC a nice long lovely fic as apology. I've already written a second fic for DMK to say I'm sorry (thus two instead of one for the exchange).

So to both of you, my most profound apologies. I never wanted to be the kind of person who let people down like that. I believe in what they teach at Yuletide: say thank you right away. So thank you both and I hope you can forgive me. The same goes to my lovely friend elrhiarhodan. I hadn't intended to give you a hard time as a mod so, again, my apologies to you for being such a poor participant in your exchange.

I'm sorry to hear you were (are?) so sick! It's so hard to even do the things that are necessary for your own health when you're ill, much less meet outside obligations even when they're fun and wonderful, so don't beat yourself up too much.

I love this! Neal and Sara are so perfectly attuned in this story. Your prose is wonderfully detailed yet does not go to vulgar. Thank you so much....and I hope you feel better soon. No apology needed (I really didn't know when I was supposed to get a story).

"A last deep breath precedes his slip into slumber. In his mind there is no anklet, no prison, no loss, no death. He's free to travel the world, explore new cities, revel in life's beauty. And for once, the woman at his side isn't hesitant, isn't a mystery, isn't a cause of heartache. Sara takes his hand, smiles at him, and tugs him forward into the glittering world that is the lifestyle of the rich, famous art lovers. They belong there now. He's not a thief. He's a collector, a painter and art is his life. In his mind he kisses her, slips his arm around her waist and follows her into the world of his dreams."

For some reason, I've recently lost some of my liking for romance... but THIS. It's such a wonderful view of their relationship... Perfect.